Slammed

Slammed by Colleen Hoover

Book: Slammed by Colleen Hoover Read Free Book Online
Authors: Colleen Hoover
from him. All it said was, " Can't wait to see you. I'll be back by four. I've missed you so bad."
     
    Seven hours and three minutes to go.
     
    History isn't any harder. The teacher is giving notes on the Punic Wars, something we had just covered in my previous school. I find it hard to focus as I literally count down the minutes. The teacher is very monotonous and mundane. If I don't find something to be interesting, my mind has a tendency to wander. It keeps wandering to Will. I am methodically taking notes, trying my best to focus when someone behind me pokes my back.
     
    "Hey, let me see your schedule,” the girl directs.
     
    I inconspicuously reach for my schedule and fold it up tightly in my left hand. I raise my hand behind me and quickly drop the schedule on her desk.
     
    "Oh please!" she says louder. "Mr. Hanushek is half blind and can barely hear. Don't worry about him."
     
    I stifle a laugh and turn toward her as Mr. Hanushek is facing the board. "I'm Layken,” I tell her.
     
    "Eddie," she responds.
     
    I look at her questioningly and she rolls her eyes.
     
    "I know ," she whispers. "It's a family name. But if you call me Eddie Spaghetti I'll kick your ass!" she threatens mildly.
     
    "I'll keep that in mind," I laugh.
     
    "Cool, we have the same third period," she says as she inspects my schedule. "It's a bitch to find. Stick with me after class and I'll show you where it is."
     
    Eddie leans forward to write something down and her slinky blond hair swings forward with her. It falls just below her chin in an asymmetrical style. Her nails are each painted a completely different color, and she has a variety of about 15 bracelets on each of her wrists that rattle and clank every time she moves. She has a small, simple outline of a black heart tattooed on the inside of her left wrist.
     
    When the bell rings, I stand up as Eddie passes me back the schedule. She reaches into my jacket pocket and pulls out my phone and starts punching numbers. I look at the schedule she has returned to me and it’s now covered in websites and phone numbers; in green ink. Eddie sees me looking and points to the first web address on the page.
     
    "That's my facebook page, but if you can't find me there, I'm also on twitter. Don't ask me for my myspace username because that shit’s lame," she says, strangely serious.
     
    She scrolls down the remaining numbers jotted on my schedule with her finger. "That's my cell phone number, that's my home phone number and that's the number to Getty’s Pizza," she says.
     
    "Is that where you work?"
     
    "No, they just have great pizza."
     
    She moves past me and I start to follow her out the door as she turns and hands me back my phone.
     
    “ I just called myself so I have your number now, too. Oh, and you need to go to the office before next period."
     
    "Why? I thought you wanted me to follow you?" I ask, feeling slightly overwhelmed by my new friend.
     
    "They have you in 'B' lunch. I'm in 'A' lunch. Go switch yours to 'A' lunch and meet me in third period."
     
    And she's gone. Just like that.
     
    ***
     
    The administration office is just two doors down. The secretary, Mrs. Alex, makes rolling her eyes a new form of art as she prints my 'new' new schedule just as the second bell for third period rings.
     
    "Do you know where this English elective is located?" I say before I leave.
     
    She gives me somewhat lengthy and confusing directions, assuming that I know where 'Hall A' is, and ‘Hall D.’ I wait patiently until she's finished and walk out the door, more confused than before.
     
    I wander across three different hallways, entering two wrong classrooms and one janitor's closet. I round the corner when I finally see 'Hall D' and feel some relief. I set my backpack down on the floor as I place the schedule between my lips and pull the rubber band off of my wrist. It's not even ten in the morning and I'm already pulling my hair up. It's that kind of day already. I

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